Red Skies at Night
by LillianLockhart
Summary: When the Ministry throws up its hands at the Missing Malfoy Case, Harry takes it upon himself to launch a solo investigation. That seems to entail sneaking into the Department of Mysteries, twisting the rules of time, and becoming prisoner aboard a pirate ship - a pirate ship belonging to one Captain Malfoy.


_Auror Potter,_

 _Report to the Minister's office immediately._

Harry blinked at the bright red memo in his hand, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. In all his years at the ministry, Shacklebolt had never once summoned him to his office, 'immediately' or otherwise. He'd always preferred to pay impromptu visits to whichever employee he needed to speak to, sometimes even stopping them just outside the loo. Harry thought the man secretly delighted in catching his underlings off-guard, especially on those occasions when his timing had been . . . unfortunate.

But, as a result, ministry offices were always kept clean and conduct remained steadfastly professional - just in case. Harry had always been impressed at the amount of respect the Minister commanded simply by existing in the vicinity.

He let out a sigh, chucked the memo in the bin next to his desk, and yanked his Auror robes from the hook by the door.

"Going somewhere?" Ron asked distractedly from his desk, clearly absorbed in his case notes.

"Shacklebolt wants to see me in his office."

At that, Ron tore his gaze up from the parchment. His eyebrows shot up. "Mate, what did you _do_?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't know. Wish me luck," he threw over his shoulder as he stepped through the door of their shared office. Ron muttered something under his breath, but Harry didn't catch it.

The corridors were filled with noise and activity as the afternoon mail haul whizzed through the air above his head and the summer season's interns jockeyed for the attention of the regular employees, sometimes to the point of obnoxious doting. Harry tentatively returned the wave of a young girl with deep brown eyes and yellow braids, but ducked into the nearest lift to avoid giving her an opening.

He sighed in relief to find the lift empty – a miracle at this hour. He pressed his thumb into the button labelled 'Level One.'

The doors to the lift had not fully closed before they were thrown open again to admit Draco Malfoy as he stepped in, sheathing his wand in his sleeve.

Green eyes met stormy gray, and Harry instinctively stepped back to allow the blond ample room to swagger in. He noticed, not for the first time, the way the black Unspeakable uniform hugged his body like a glove from the high collar to the cinched waist. The bottom half of the uniform swirled around his ankles, and was just high enough to reveal impeccably shiny black shoes. "What level?" Harry asked, deciding on the polite and neutral route.

"One," Malfoy answered, expressionless.

Harry nodded, clearing his throat awkwardly. When Malfoy had been hired on as an Unspeakable, it had taken them nearly a year to stop hexing each other in the corridors. Twice, their arguments had become physical, and Shacklebolt had been the one to break them up both times. They'd both been suspended. A month later, Harry approached Malfoy to call a truce. He wanted to take his Auror career seriously, and so he needed to let the rivalry go. Malfoy had nodded curtly in agreement, and that was how this awkward not-quite-acquaintanceship had started. Without Malfoy's sneer and biting words to distract him, Harry began noticing, to his deep consternation, that his heart rate would still spike whenever they were in the same room. His body, it seemed, had not gotten the memo that he no longer wanted to pick a fight with the git every chance he got. Old habits, he guessed.

The doors slid open again and Harry hastily stepped out onto plush purple carpet, making a beeline for the giant mahogany door with 'Minister for Magic' emblazoned on a gold plaque on the front. Before he had the chance to knock, the door swung open and two of Shacklebolt's personal assistants ushered him in without a word.

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy walked in behind them to stand in the corner as Harry - _only_ Harry, he noticed with a twinge of annoyance - was subjected to an array of invasive searching charms. He sent a questioning look to the Minister, who was sat calmly behind his large desk.

"Nothing personal, Harry," Kingsley said placatingly. "I've asked you here - both of you-" he glanced at Malfoy. "For a Class Violet case. I need the utmost level of security I can muster."

Harry felt his jaw hang loose. "I've never worked a Violet before," he began anxiously. Class Violet, or so he'd heard, was a rarely-used code name for 'Top Secret and Incredibly Dangerous.' The last one, he'd also heard, had resulted in two missing Aurors who were simply never heard from again. Some say they'd died, but others insisted they were under "witness protection" (rather obliviated out of their minds and dropped in another country).

Shacklebolt raised one eyebrow. "Do you refuse? You realize I'll have no choice but to Obliviate you if you are."

"N-no," Harry was quick to reply. "'Course not. I just-"

"That's enough, gentlemen," the Minister told his assistants. "Please wait outside."

Harry waited until the door clicked shut behind them before he took the nearest chair and rolled his shoulders to loosen them. He was hyper-aware of Malfoy moving silently to take the seat next to him, and the air carried over the subtle scent of his cologne - the same scent he'd noticed during their second actual fight that seemed ages ago now, the one where Harry had pinned him to the floor and Malfoy had gotten a fistful of Harry's hair, nearly pulling it out from the feel of it. Harry had felt a rush of _something_ that could have been rage, but . . . He gripped the wooden arms of the chair tightly.

"Due to the nature of this assignment, and the magical statutes that protect our way of life and the operation of the Ministry - not to mention the sensitivity of the location," Shacklebolt was saying as he stood from his chair and walked around the giant desk. He looked down at him from his impressive height and frowned. "I'm afraid there is not much I can tell you about this mission."

After a moment of silence, Harry cleared his throat. "What do you mean?" he asked, glancing at Malfoy and then back to Kingsley. "Where am I going?"

"Can't tell you that." the Minister said gravely. Before Harry could respond, he reached into an upper robe pocket and produced a small piece of parchment, which he held out.

Harry took it carefully, flipping it over to see a handful of words scrawled in a random, disconnected order.

 _Egg Thief. All the way down. Time-Turner. 24 hours prior. 20 minutes to go. Don't get caught._

As he processed the last three words, smoke began to rise from the edges of the parchment and the corners curled in. It erupted into flames, and Harry gasped, releasing it. It fully disintegrated before the last ash hit the floor.

"That is all you may know," the Minister said, adjusting his sleeve.

"That was practically gibberish!" Harry complained. "How am I supposed to get to a place if I'm not allowed to know where it is? And I thought all Time-Turners were ruined in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries."

"All except for one," Kingsley replied. He gestured widely to Malfoy. "And this is where your partner comes in."

"Partner?" Harry sputtered, but the Minister began talking quickly over him.

"Mr. Malfoy will be regulating your use of the Time-Turner. He will not leave your side as long as it is in your possession. A set of Port-Keys are already prepared for the two of you to take to get to the site - do not dawdle, please, it could cost you a lot more than time - and I will expect you back here in half an hour with property in hand."

Harry blinked.

Malfoy stood. "Let's be on our way, then."

Kingsley handed them a small, pocket-sized box. "Here is your first Port-Key. Don't use it at the Ministry. Take the floo network to somewhere private before you use it. Don't let anyone see it."

Malfoy took it and slipped it into a charmed inner pocket where the shape flattened to nothing.

Harry followed numbly behind as Malfoy led them back to the lifts. When they were once again alone, he shakily let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The sound of it echoed in the small, quiet space.

"What? Scared, Potter?"

From anyone else, the question would have seemed innocent enough. As it was, Harry cut his gaze sharply to Malfoy, who simply stared expressionlessly at the closed doors in front of him. It was unclear whether or not the reference to their second year of Hogwarts was intentional. The tension thickened.

"You wish," Harry found himself saying, ignoring both of his urges to laugh and cringe.

Malfoy did look at him then, blinking slowly. The corner of his mouth quirked up, seemingly against his will, and a flash of white peeked through his lazy, crooked grin. After leveling him with an incredulous stare, Malfoy swiped his tongue across the visible row of teeth and rolled his eyes at Harry, turning back to the doors just as they opened again.

Harry felt very strange. This was, possibly, what those annoyingly chatty receptionist witches had been gossiping about as he tried to enjoy his mid-morning coffee and Daily Prophet in the lounge. Well, they were _usually_ gossiping - mostly about some fit bloke or another. More than once, though, they'd gone on about Malfoy and swooned over his so-called "devilish charm." But Harry liked to think he was a decent Auror - _quite_ immune to charm, thank you very much. He was an accomplished Occlumens. He'd never met an _Imperius_ he couldn't shake off. He hadn't met the veela he was swayed by. Surely, he could resist the rumored effortless sexuality of Draco Malfoy. But first, he needed to remember how to breathe. With some effort, he tore his eyes away from him as the noise and light of the corridor spilled in, and Harry realized where they were. "This is my floor. I thought we were going to the Atrium?"

Instead of replying, Malfoy led him through the maze of employees (which parted rather hastily this time) and back into Harry's office. He breezed through the door and looked around, his eyes landing on Ron, who was currently asleep at his desk. Malfoy looked at Harry. "Get your cloak."

Confused, Harry grabbed at the hood of the robes he was wearing. Then it clicked, "Ah, that. Wait, how did you know I have it here?"

Malfoy grabbed a miniature snow globe from Harry's workspace, turning it over in his hands. He leaned against the wooden desk and watched the snow fall. "Because you're predictable."

"Whozzat?" groaned Ron. He had lifted his head and was squinting at the newcomer. "Malfoy?"

"Yes, Ron," Harry muttered, releasing the protective charms on the second drawer of his desk and pulling out the familiar piece of silvery fabric.

Barely sparing the legendary item a glance, Malfoy set the heavy glass toy back down with a _clunk_ and crossed the room. "Let's go."

"Where ya goin'?" Ron asked, but his head was back down and his eyes closed.

Malfoy paused at the door and smirked. "Potter and I have fallen madly in love and have decided to elope."

Ron gave the thumbs up, his head still resting on his other arm. "Great. Have fun."

Clearly hoping for a better reaction, Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Harry.

Harry felt his face heat up, but he said nothing.

On the way down to the Atrium, they weren't alone on the lift. Harry nodded politely at the two other passengers and glanced at Malfoy, whose attention was entirely focused on the glowing dial of his wristwatch. His lips moved silently as though he were counting. The moment the door slid open, Malfoy took long strides that Harry had to hurry to keep up with. When they reached the nearest available floo, he spun around and spoke in a low, rushed voice. "Your place or mine?"

Harry ignored the odd feeling in his stomach at those words. "Er - my flat's being remodeled, so I'm staying at the Burrow."

Not missing a beat, Malfoy spun back around and grabbed a handful of floo powder. He'd barely stepped into the ashes before he said "Malfoy Manor" and disappeared in a flash of green flames.

He allowed himself a moment to try to settle the trepidation he found swirling around the pit of his stomach. There were more reasons behind it than Harry had time to straighten out. He took a deep breath. "It's just another job," he whispered, and stepped into the fire.

The moment he tumbled into the drawing room of the Manor, Malfoy held out his hand and said "wand."

"What?" Harry sputtered incredulously. "No!"

" _Yes_. It won't work where we're going anyway. There is a magical field suppressing everything but - but the most _powerful_ magic and artifacts. And your wand carries your magical signature and can be traced back to you. It's taking a lot of work just to allow for our portkey entry, and we don't have all the time in the world." He raised his eyebrows emphatically. "So hand over your wand."

Harry clenched his teeth and reluctantly dropped his wand into Malfoy's outstretched hand. He felt strange already without it - bare and vulnerable.

Malfoy placed both of their wands on the mantel. He reached into his robes for the Port-Key box and opened it to reveal a single unlit match. His hand shook as he held it out in front of him - it was a nearly imperceptible amount, but Harry noticed.

They held onto the opposite ends of the delicate object gingerly. A chiming noise rang out from a large grandfather clock that Harry hadn't noticed before.

"Now."


End file.
